Holds On
by QueensJenn
Summary: Dethklok's usual murder and mayhem takes a turn for the disastrous. Mild slash in last chapter. This story is now COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Holds On

It really was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

The band had gotten fairly used to mishaps during performances. Explosions, riots, assasination attempts, it had all become fairly routine. With Charles and a few Hoods there to run interference, none of these occurences were ever anything the band really had to worry about.

Until tonight, when it had all gone terribly wrong.

Concentrating on his solo, Skwisgaar only distantly heard the rattle of machine gun fire, and he dismissed it out of hand. Such things were not uncommon for a Dethklok gig, after all.

Until something small, fast, and very, very metal whizzed past his nose.

"Get down!" someone shouted in the instant before pandemonium broke loose.

Staccatto gunshots rang out over the stage, shattering the lights and raining glass down on all in the vicinity. He could hear the screams in the audience as many people were impaled, shot, or otherwise maimed or killed. He scuttled backwards until he was in the corner, his back pressing against the bulkhead that formed the riser for the drumset. The air was thick with fear and smoke and sweat.

And then as soon as it hard started, it was over. The awful popping and whizzing had stopped, along with most of the screams from the crowd (though that was mainly because most of them were dead.)

Skwisgaar unfolded himself from the fearful crouch he'd huddled into and stood up, clearing his throat and assuming his normal expression of apathetic indifference. He looked around.

Pickles was also picking himself up from where he'd ducked nearly under his drum kit, and Murderface was gazing at the carnage with a look of awe. Nathan looked out over the now mostly silent audience and shrugged.

"Hn. That was fucking brutal."

And Toki...

Skwisgaar sneered and walked over to where the rhythm guitarist still lay. He had half pushed himself into a sitting position, but made no more move to get up. Skwisgaar prodded him with one booted foot.

"Gets up you dumb dildoes," he scoffed. "Its am be overs now."

Toki twisted to face him, his blue eyes wide, and his face pale even under the corpsepaint.

"Skwisgaar?" he said weakly, "I...I don'ts feels so good."

And then Skwisgaar noticed how the younger man's hand was clasped tightly to his side. Bright red blood stained his shirt and welled between his fingers, pooling on the stage.

Then his eyes rolled back and he slumped over.

"Tokis?" Skwisgaar fought to keep the concern out of his voice. "Tokis, wakes up." He knelt down by the rythm guitarists, noticing with increasing alarm how his breathing had become slow and shallow, and the blood running between his fingers was barely flowing.

Distantly he could hear the roar of the approaching Dethcopter. It was Toki's only chance.

"Holds on, little Toki," he said. The others were staring at the unlikely scene, but he ignored them. "Holds on...don'ts dies, Toki, just holds on..."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks everyone for the reviews!! Much appreciated!

***

_ The emergency room was pure white._

_ Skwisgaar had had ample time over the past nine hours to memorize it's every detail – every stain in the ceiling, every crack in the floor. Now he lay on his back, sprawled across three chairs, trying to find anything to distract his mind._

_ That wasn't just anyone in there, being put back together. That was Toki. That was one of them._

_ The rest of the band were doing much of the same – trying not to show how desperately, desperately worried they were. Pickles sat in one of the chairs, smoking cigarette after cigarette, despite the numerous 'No Smoking' signs. Nathan alternated between sitting and flipping through the outdated magazines and pacing restlessly. And Murderface...well, he was no different than usual, really, having already carved "Planet Piss" into the walls fifteen times._

_ They were all trying to avoid the same thing: the memory of their gravely wounded bandmate – their _friend,_ no matter how loath they were to admit it – being prepped for emergency surgery. The quiet _snicksnicksnick_ as his shirt was snipped away by the two onboard medics, and the sick splatter of blood falling on the floor. The medics shouting orders that none of them understood, except to know that it was bad. Real bad._

_ The sudden, hopeless flatlining of the heart monitor._

_ For as long as he would live, Skwisgaar would never forget how he felt in that moment. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. One of the hooded medics began compressions while the other prepared to deliver a shock with the paddles._

_ Every hurtful word, every cruel sneer, came rushing back to him. The way it had always been. They both knew that it wasn't serious – their rivalry was simply the manifestation of the deeper emotion between them – the friendship that neither would acknowledge, because friendship was gay and unmetal. They both knew that...didn't they? Toki knew that Skwisgaar didn't really hate him, right?_

_ For ten agonizing minutes, the solid tone beeped it's funeral dirge. Then, just as the medics were about to give up – just as the words "Time of death," had been on the first one's lips, it blipped. Weakly at first, then with increasing steadiness. Toki was back._

_ Skwisgaar had let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, feeling a rush of renewed hope and determination. Toki was alive, and as soon as he was out of surgery, Skwisgaar would make sure he knew the truth. Hell, he might even apologize. _

_ The waiting room door opened and Klokateer #1059 entered. He was one of the doctors by profession employed in the Klokateer Corps; as such, he was one of the very few permitted to forgo the usual black hood. He was currently dressed in blood spattered scrubs, and his expression was very, very serious._

_ "Does you have any news?" Skwisgaar demanded._

_ "Yeah, how's Toki doing? When can we see him?" Nathan asked._

_ #1059 hesitated, then sighed. "My lords," he said. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."_

_ And instantly, Skwisgaar knew just what he was going to say. _

_ "Noes," he said, as if preventing the doctor from saying it would make it untrue._

_ "Lord Toki was very badly hurt when he was brought in," #1059 went on. "We operated for nine hours; we transfused nearly thirty units of blood into him. We did everything we possibly could for him."_

_ "Noes," Skwisgaar repeated dully. _

_ "But his injuries were too severe, and we couldn't save him." The doctor lowered his head and closed his eyes. "Lord Toki died. I am...I am so sorry that I have failed you, my lords."_

_ Skwisgaar heard Nathan's howl of disbelief, but it meant nothing. Silently, leaving his guitar behind, he walked out of the waiting room._

_ ***_

_ The grave was dug on the outskirts of the Mordland forest. True to his childish nature, Toki had never given any thought to his final arrangements, and they had, at Ofdenson's urging, settled on a small but neat headstone. Problems had emerged when it came time to do the inscription, and the band realized that they hadn't even known Toki's birthdate, and had to settle for simply inscribing his name._

_ Skwisgaar knelt on the mound of fresh earth. He'd taken to doing that now. Toki's death had thrown into stark relief for him just how fucked up Dethklok was – how long had they known the Norwegian, and they didn't even know when he was born? There was uncaring, but Dethklok had long since moved past that into outright active indifference. It had been okay at first, but not any longer._

_ He studied the small headstone, wondering how it had all gone so wrong. The very first night after...after the funeral, he'd brought Toki's Flying V out and propped it up against the stone. It would get ruined, but that was all right. No one but Toki would ever play it, and now Toki was gone. It didn't need to be preserved._

_ The second night, he had brought Deddybear out. Now the bear's black, beady eyes glared up at him, silently accusing him of being the one that had hurt it's master so. _

_ "Skwisgaar."_

_ The blond guitarist looked around, trying to figure out who had called his name. He had thought he was alone._

_ "Skwisgaar!"_

_ With growing horror, he realized it was from in front of him. From the grave. _

_ "Skwisgaar! Wake up, dood!"_

_ Pickles?_

Skwisgaar's eyes snapped open. His heart was pounding and bile rose in his throat. Pickles hovered over him.

"Dood you were like, dreeaming or somethin'," the drummer said.

He slowly sat up, trying to figure out where he was. White walls. The emergency room.

_The emergency room!_

He'd fallen asleep, sprawled over three of the chairs.

Then Toki wasn't...

"Haves you heards any news?" he asked.

"Nat yet," Pickles said.

All his limbs seemed to turn to water as relief ebbed through him. Toki wasn't dead. The dream had been just that – a dream. A _nightmare. _

"Man they've been in there a long time," Nathan observed.

"Maybe he'sch dead and they juscht don't want to tell usch," Murderface suggested. "You know, cuz they know we'd kill'em."

"Ohh, good point," Nathan said. "He better not die, I don't wanna have to audition a new rhythm guitarist."

Skwisgaar had to bite back a sharp retort as the door opened, and #1059, the Mordhaus surgeon stepped through, wearing blood-spattered scrubs, and a very grim expression. Instantly, his heart sank to somewhere around his knees and all his blood turned to ice.

"My lords," began #1059. "I wish to let you know that Lord Toki has made it through surgery."

And Skwisgaar felt his heart start beating again. _I cannots takes much mores of dis! _he thought wildly.

"So, he ams alives?" he said outloud. "Cans I sees him?"

"Yes, my Lord," replied #1059. "He is alive, but he isn't out of danger yet. The next twelve hours will be touch and go, but if he makes it through then, he will more than likely be all right. He's still being closed up, but you should be able to see him in the morning."

"Ja, okays." Suddenly he was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to get out of there. "Tomorrows." Clutching his Explorer tightly, he strode out of the room.

* * *

Seven hours later, Skwisgaar stood in front of the doors marked INTENSIVE CARE, a small bundle in his hands.

He hated the hospital wing. It reminded him that despite their fame and fortune, their talent and sucess, they too were still mortal. They were as subject to injuries and illness as every other douchebag out there. And someday, despite their power and wealth, they wouldn't be able to outrun death any longer.

He'd die before he'd ever admit it, but it scared him.

_Stupids, _he told himself. _You ams being big dildoes babies. _And that just was not acceptable. So he took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Skwisgaar was used to gore. Being a member of Dethklok, he pretty much had to be. But the sight of Toki lying there was almost more than he could take.

At first, he thought the younger man was still wearing his corpsepaint. Then, with a certain sick sensation, he realized it was the deathly pallor of his skin. He was sedated, and, still too weak to breathe on his own, connected to a ventilator.

The blankets were pulled up to his waist but his torso was bare, except for the bandages and pressure dressings. A nasty looking tube snaked out of the bandages covering the wound, draining into a plastic pouch. A bag of blood transfused through the IV line stuck in his arm. The heart monitor beeped steadily, but it was little comfort.

Skwisgaar felt like he might be sick. Even though it had been his choice to come down here, even though the doctors had warned him Toki was in bad shape, he'd pushed them all aside with his usual sneering bravado. Now, he wished he'd listened. Nothing, _nothing _could have prepared him for seeing his friend like this.

He looked frail and weak.

He looked _human._

With shaking hands, he approached Toki's bedside, and gently placed Deddybear in the crook of his elbow.

Then, cursing his own weakness, he fled the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Toki opened his eyes and was rewarded with a blurry vision of the hospital wing within Mordhaus. It wasn't the ideal view, but it was better than the previous six times he has attempted to open his eyes, and hadn't been able to at all.

He was greeted by the sight of the four other members of Dethklok standing before him, trying, and failing miserably, not to look concerned.

Nathan's deep rumble reached his ears, though it took him longer to decipher the words.

"Hey...hey guys. I think he's, uh. I think he's awake."

Toki tried to speak, but realized to his growing horror that there was a clear plastic mask covering his face. Weakly, he brought his hand up --

-- oh _Odin _that hurt!--

-- and batted at the mask, trying to get it off. Dimly he could hear the high pitched beep of the heart monitor increasing as a steady, rapid pounding filled his ears. He focussed on Nathan's face, pleading for help, determined not to close his eyes because he knew that if he did, he would not be able to open them again.

It was Skwisgaar who gently removed the mask. Toki lay there panting, getting used to the suddenly decreased oxygen levels in the air, but feeling the panic ebb away.

"Uh, maybe...maybe you should keep that on..." Nathan said uncertainly.

"_Nei," _Toki gasped. "_Nei, vær så snill!"_

There was an awkward pause, and he mentally cringed. He hadn't meant to slip into his native language.

"Here," Murderface said, breaking the silence. He held out the small, spiny green plant in his arms. "It'sch a cactusch. Scho you don't have to water it and schit."

If he'd been more lucid, Toki would have been impressed that Murderface had been able to mention watering plants without making a reference to piss. As it was, he was still under the influence of heavy painkillers, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Mortified, he tried to hide them, but he knew there was no point. By the looks on their faces, he knew the rest of the band had realized he was crying.

"T'anks, Moidaface," he said simply, as the bass player put the plant on the table next to the bed.

"Yeah, uh, you gotta get better," Nathan blundered on awkwardly. "Cuz, uh, I wrote a couple new songs. For the tour next month. If you can go."

"I _wills_ be dere," Toki promised solemnly, although even the thought of playing the guitar, or even standing up, hurt. Then suddenly the burning tears were back and no matter what he did, he couldn't hide them. "I'm sorries, Nat'ans," he said. "I screws everyt'ing ups"

"Toki, you got shot," Nathan said, a note of admiration in his voice. "That's like, totally brutal."

"Reallies?"

"Yeah...uh, I don't think...I don't think any of us have ever been shot."

"T'anks, Na'tans," Toki said softly, his eyes falling shut of their own accord. He hadn't realized he was so _tired,_ but suddenly he could barely stay awake. It felt like those first few times, just after he'd developed diabetes as an effect of overdosing on candy – when he hadn't managed it well enough, and ended up passing out during rehearsal, at dinner, in the corridoor, and one mortifying time, on stage during a gig.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps leading away from him: the rest of the band was leaving. Then the hated mask was slipped back over his face, and he felt himself slip into the darkness once more.

***

Skwisgaar shook his head as Nathan turned back to ask him if he was coming. The younger guitarist was mostly out of the woods, but he didn't want to leave him just yet. Call it a hunch, a premonition, whatever, but Skwisgaar just felt that he was needed there still.

So he sat, his fingers running over his ever-present Explorer, as he listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor and the whisper of the respirator, and tried to banish from his mind those nagging 'what if' thoughts: what if things hadn't turned out the way they had? What if the Dethcopter had been even five minutes later? He tried not to remember how it had felt to listen to the onboard medics, to watch them wield strange and fearsome looking equipment over the prone, blood-soaked body of his friend.

And he _resolutely _pushed out of his mind the memory of the heart monitor suddenly flatlining, and how suddenly hopeless and helpless he'd been when, in those surreal moments Toki had been dead, and Skwisgaar had suddenly realized just how much the younger man meant to him.

At first he didn't notice the chill that had descended over the room. Only when his fingers began to ache from the cold did he lift his head.

Anja Wartooth stood in the doorway.

Skwisgaar stood up, his heart hammering in his chest, and his hands shaking. "_What are you doing here?_" he snarled in Swedish, hoping that she would understand.

Unfazed by his hostility, she gazed past him, looking at the sleeping Toki.

"_Meg__ sønn..." _she whispered, and Skwisgaar repressed a shudder. Her voice was drier than dust, like it hadn't been used in a long, long time. She glided past him to Toki's bedside and paused, her hand outstretched, trembling faintly.

"_Don't touch him," _Skwisgaar growled. "_Get away from him!_"

Toki whimpered in his sleep, one hand gripping the blanket tightly. Skwisgaar stepped closer.

"_Get out of here before I call security," _he threatened, pitching his voice low so that Toki wouldn't pick up on it. Truthfully, he didn't know if the Klokateers could eject Toki's mother, but she didn't need to know that.

Gently, her hand descended, brushing Toki's long hair off his face. With her thumb, she made the sign of the cross on his forehead, then straightened. Her eyes bored into Skwisgaar's.

"_Ta vare på seg,_" she whispered, and then as quickly as she'd come, she was gone.  
__

_*** * ***_

Translations:

_Nei, vaer sa snill! -- _No, please!

_Meg sonn –_ My son

_Ta vare pa seg _ -- Take care of him.


	4. Chapter 4

As always, thanks very much for the reviews :)

* * *

Skwisgaar idely plucked at the strings of his Explorer, listening without interest to the conversations going on around him. Charles had called a band meeting yet again in the hopes of forcing them to focus on their next album, but without Toki, the exersize seemed pointless. Not that the rhythm guitarist ever contributed anything creatively, but still. It wasn't right.

"As I was saying," Offdenson continued after being interrupted by Nathan for the fifth time. "The new album is due out in September. You'll need to start recording by May at the latest. Hopefully Toki will be able to contribute, but if he can't, we may need to look at, ah, alternatives."

"What kinds of alters-natives?" Skwisgaar asked suspiciously. He didn't like where this was going.

"Well," Charles began, looking uncomfortable. "It may happen that someone else will have to record his parts. If he is unable to play."

"Man, fuck that guy!" Nathan said, pounding his fist on the table. "It's been like six weeks he should be better by now."

"Well, Nathan," Charles said, looking nonplussed. "Toki was severely injured at the last concert. He came very close to not making it through surgery. It's going to take a lot longer for him to recover fully."

Skwisgaar said nothing, only began tinkering with a new melody. He'd tried to visit Toki in the hospital. He really had. But the Norwegian had been cranky, drugged, and in a great deal of pain. It had been obvious that he didn't want visitors, didn't want a reminder of what he was missing out on. And for once in his life, Skwisgaar both understood and respected his wishes.

He was pulled from his thought's by the sudden ringing of Offdenson's Dethphone. After looking around at the band to make sure none of them were pranking him, he answered.

"Offdenson. He _is? _Are you sure that's wise? All right then, I'll let them know." He hung up and cleared his throat slightly. "It seems that Toki has in fact been released. He's, uh, on his way here."

Silence fell over the room. No one had been expecting this.

Nathan was the first to speak. "So uh....is he gonna be all deformed and shit?"

"I don't think--"

"Yeah, isch he gonna be like a fucking zombie or schomething?"

"No, William, he--"

Skwisgaar tried to tune them out, but he couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that was spreading over him. _Would _Toki be hideously disfigured? Would he be disabled, a shell of his former self? Would everything be changed now, would nothing ever be the same?

And before he could even try to reign in his thoughts, the door opened, and Toki stood there, supported by a pair of crutches.

Skwisgaar let out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Toki looked like shit, true – he was pale and tired – but he wasn't disfigured. He was still Toki.

The Norwegian seemed to shrink away from the intensity of their stares. Wordlessly he maneovered around to the side of the table and dropped into his seat.

Charles was the first to break the silence. "Toki. How..ah, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okays," Toki responded. "Stops looking at me likes that."

As if suddenly aware that they had all been staring, they all suddenly found the table in front of them very interesting.

"Well, there's a number of things you'll need to be caught up on," Charles continued. "Perhaps when you're feeling up to it, you and Skwisgaar can work on --"

"I said I'ms feelings fine!" Toki interjected hotly. "I cans starts workings on dem todays."

This time, Charles knew better than to ask if he was sure. Instead, he merely nodded and turned his attentions to other things.

* * *

"Dat ams wrong, Toki! Plays it again!"

Sighing in frustration, the younger man tried again to play the riff he'd been taught. He wasn't even halfway through before Skwisgaar shook his head, stopping him in his tracks. Skwisgaar picked up his Explorer and demonstrated, once again, the correct way to play it.

"That's whats I did," Toki grumbled. He shook his head, then had to put a hand on the wall of the recording booth to steady himelf.

"Toki? You's okay? Maybe we's takes a break, hah?"

"No! Skwisgaar, I cans do this!" He straightened up with a wince of pain, and tried once more. To his credit, the riff sounded a little closer to how it was supposed to sound. Unsatisfied with his own performance, he played it again, and then a third. And then he stopped.

"Skwisgaar?" he asked, his voice wavering. "Maybes we cans takes that breaks now?"

Skwisgaar looked up to see a very pale and shaky Toki slowly make his way out of the recording booth.

He rushed forward, and was just in time to catch him as he collapsed to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

_ /Thank you thank you thank you for the reviews and kind words, and I apologize this part took so long!_

_ "Skwisgaar?" he asked, his voice wavering. "Maybes we cans takes that breaks now?"_

_ Skwisgaar looked up to see a very pale and shaky Toki slowly make his way out of the recording booth. _

_ He rushed forward, and was just in time to catch him as he collapsed to the floor._

Fortunately, the younger guitarist was already coming around by the time Skwisgaar caught him. He blinked and frowned, as if wordlessly asking _How did I end up on the floor?_

"You's all rights?" Skwisgaar asked lamely.

"I's...I's fines," Toki said. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but hissed with pain and fell against Skwisgaar, who helped him to his feet. The Norwegian wavered unsteadily, then limped to the couch and sat down heavily. The painkillers were wearing off, and the burning aching pain was seeping back into his bones.

"I's gonna takes a fucking nap," he muttered, his eyes slipping shut.

"Nots heres, Toki," Skwisgaar said. "You can'ts sleeps heres. Whats if Nay'tens or Pickle comes ins? You wants them to sees you like dis?"

"No," Toki sighed, his pride resurfacing. He looked away in shame as Skwisgaar handed him his crutches, then painfully got to his feet.

The walk back to Toki's room was slow and silent. The younger guitarist just focussed on putting one foot in front of another, a task that in his present condition took up most of his concentration. He was never so glad to see his own bedroom.

"Turns around," he muttered to Skwisgaar, as he stripped off his shirt. "Don'ts wants you to sees me likes dis either."

The blonde pursed his lips but did as he was told, only turning around as he heard the matress rustle, and Toki's squeak of pain as he moved too suddenly. Silently he handed Toki the orange bottle of painkillers, and frowned when the younger man shook about six pills into his hand and dry-swallowed them.

"Ah...Toki," he sighed. "I hates seeing you takes dat many pills."

Toki shrugged. "Pickle takes way mores than dat."

"Ja, but Pickle takes them because he ams wantingks to. You's taking thems because you ams hurtingks."

Toki didn't know how to respond to that, so he simply lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Skwisgaar nudged the nighttable out of the way with his foot, then sat down by the head of the bed. He could just see the top of the ugly scar on Toki's abdomen, marring the toned muscle and tanned flesh, and he swore that if he ever found the fucking jackoff dildoes that did this to Toki, he would murder them with his bare hands.

He shook his head. Six months ago, he would not have been having these sorts of thoughts about Toki. Funny how near-death changed your perspective of a person.

"Skwisgaar?" Toki broke the silence, speaking in their Nordic pidgin. "_Was I dead?"_

For a moment, Skwisgaar wondered if Toki had been reading his thoughts. "_Go to sleep, Toki,"_ he said. He did _not _want to think about that.

"_No, I really need to know. Charles won't tell me anything. Did I die, Skwisgaar?"_

He sighed. "Ja. _On the Dethcopter. For about ten minutes."_

_ "I see." _There was another long pause, and then, "_I think I saw something. Something I wasn't supposed to see."_

_ "What are you talking about?"_

_ "When I was...dead," _Toki said. "_I saw...a man in armour, with a shining crown of skulls. And I saw Nathan there, and Pickle and Murderface...and you, and me. I think there's something out there, Skwisgaar. Bigger than you and me, bigger than Dethklok...bigger than Odin, maybe. But it's got it's eye on us."_

Skwisgaar felt an uncomfortable shiver go down his back. "_Bigger than Dethklok, hah! Nothing's bigger than Dethklok, you should know that by now, but maybe you should tell Charles what you saw just in case."_

Toki yawned. The painkillers were kicking in real good now. "_You think so?"_

"Ja. _I do."_ He couldn't explain it, but it sounded like something Charles _needed_ to hear.

"_Well, maybe later, okay? I'm tired now."_

_ "Ja, okay. Later."_

_ "Will you stay here for a bit?" _Toki asked hopefully.

"_For a bit," _Skwisgaar agreed. "_Now go to sleep."_

Four hours later, Charles knocked softly on Toki's door, then opened it. When the two guitarists had failed to show up for dinner, he'd grown concerned. Finding Skwisgaar's room empty, Toki's was the next logical place.

The two Scandinavians were sound asleep.

Without saying a word, Charles silently closed the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Skwisgaar peered out from behind the heavy black curtain separating the backstage area from the stage. There had to be at least a few thousand people out there – probably more. Not surprising: Dethklok hadn't done a live show in nearly six months. Not since – not since...

The Swede turned away from the curtain, coming face-to-face with Toki. The younger man was still using his crutches backstage, but he'd healed to the point that he didn't need them onstage. Well, that was the theory, anyway. He'd done well enough in rehearsals, but Skwisgaar wondered if he was really ready.

"_Lots of people out there,"_ he said softly, in Norwegian so their band mates wouldn't overhear.

"Ja. _At least five thousand. Probably more like eight or nine."_

"_Pretty good turnout, then."_

"_Pfft, of course. Are you really surprised?"_

"_No..."_ Toki shifted uncomfortably. "_Eight or nine thousand? You're sure?"_

"_Probably, why?" _Skwisgaar asked, crinkling his brow in confusion. Toki had never been bothered by large crowds before.

"_Nothing," _Toki sighed, and shifted again. "_They could be out there, couldn't they?"_ he said at last. "_The people who...last time...you know."_

"_The people who opened fire and nearly killed you," _Skwisgaar said matter-of-factly. Toki winced, but nodded.

"_You know what Charles told you. The Klokateers found the suspects. They're locked deep under Mordhaus now, and if they aren't dead, they soon will be."_

"_I know," _Toki said, frowning. _"That's what Charles said. But..." _he looked away. "_What if he's not always telling the truth?"_

Skwisgaar snorted. "_Pfft, little Toki. Why would he lie to us?"_ Even still, he couldn't forget the look on Charles' face when Toki told him about his death vision. The manager had been quick to assure them that it meant nothing, that it was just Toki's brain shutting down due to lack of blood and oxygen. But Skwisgaar had seen the worried look on his face, and the way he'd politely but quickly shown them out of his office soon after, citing the fact that he had a lot of work to do. And he knew Toki hadn't missed it either.

"_Even if he is," _he continued, an uncomfortable shiver running down his spine at the memory. "_What are you going to do about it now, ja? You have to go out there, sooner or later."_

"_No I don't," _Toki said stubbornly. "_I never want to go out there again. You can't make me."_

"_Oh really?"_ asked Skwisgaar slyly. That sounded like a challenge if he'd ever heard one. Before he knew quite what he was doing, he'd crossed the gap between them, and kissed Toki full on the mouth.

The younger man went motionless from shock, but only for a moment. Then he was kissing him back with such a ferocity and intensity, it was clear to Skwisgaar that he'd wanted to do this for years. Dimly, the Swede wondered why he hadn't just done this ages ago.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds, they broke the kiss. Toki stumbled back, his eyes wide.

"Mores later," Skwisgaar said, a devious smile curving his mouth. "But you gots to plays de show, forst."

Toki grinned back, threw down his crutches, and made his way toward the front of the stage and the chanting crowd.

A minute later, all thoughts of faceless gunmen and mysterious visions forgotten in lieu of what was in store after the show, Skwisgaar followed.

THE END.


End file.
